Sarah waited patiently, tapping her heel against the bed frame as Rion skimmed through the academy booklet. His eyes moved rapidly, stopping every few lines—like someone trying to swallow an entire content at once.
"So?" Sarah asked, leaning forward. "What path will you choose?"
Rion didn't answer—not because he was avoiding it, but because the pages demanded his full attention. At last, he exhaled and said quietly:
"…It's a magic academy. So… mage, I guess."
Sarah stared at him.
Then she burst into laughter.
Not a small giggle—an explosive, uncontrollable laugh that bent her over.
Rion winced.
"Wh– why?! What's funny?! My ears— Sarah, seriously!"
She tried to breathe. "Your… ngh— your brain is so small sometimes!"
"HUH?!"
"You think the world only has a mage, a knight, a mercenary, a soldier? That's the tutorial tier!" She wiped a tear from her eye. "You're going to one of the most recognized academies. Don't chain yourself before you even start!"
"…Then what do you expect me to pick?"
Her smile softened. "A sorcerer."
Rion froze.
Sarah nodded. "A sorcerer stands above mages or swordsmen. They don't just memorize spells— they understand them. Magic, combat, Arcanum, theory… all woven into one. It's a rare path, difficult… but meaningful."
The word sorcerer echoed in him—silent, heavy, familiar.
He didn't need to voice the reason. In the deepest part of his memory, there were two figures who moved as if that very word had been crafted for them alone—his mother, and his teacher. Their shadows lingered behind every echo of it.
Lorn's voice echoed in his memories: "Become the greatest mage."
she meant mage literally.
But maybe she meant this.
Sarah nudged him. "It suits you. Actually… I think it fits you better than anything else."
"…Thank you," he managed. It wasn't gratitude—more like the feeling of a piece clicking into a place he didn't know was empty.
She brightened. "But remember—entrance exam is hard."
"Good," he said. "I prefer hard."
They laughed, the kind that comes after too many heavy days.
"You have twenty days," she added.
He nodded.
---
Moonlight stretched thin across the abandoned courtyard, the chill sharp enough to sting the fingertips. Rion swung his sword again and again—chest rising and falling like a pair of bellows.
Every swing cut the air cleanly—yet something was missing.
Every stance was correct—yet some invisible wall pressed down on him.
His shoulder ached—old, stubborn pain from a night he didn't like to revisit. He rubbed the spot lightly, breath trembling for a moment.
The sword wasn't the issue.
Neither was magic.
His body said so.
His essence said otherwise.
He paused only long enough to wipe sweat on his sleeve. The moon above him remained cold, indifferent.
"Not enough," he whispered to the empty courtyard.
His voice was a hoarse whisper swallowed by the cold wind.
"It doesn't matter how well I master magic… or swordsmanship," he murmured, pressing a trembling hand to his chest. "If my Essence stays this low… I'll die. Like a corpse under some monster's foot."
His shoulder throbbed—the memory of that day resurfacing:
The beast towering above him.
His wand shattered.
The suffocating fear.
The feeling of being so very, very small.
"I can't…" he whispered. "I can't go through that again."
He stared toward the laboratory building. The light inside was dark, but he knew the room well.
The decision rose inside him quietly.
Like hunger.
Like a promise whispered by an older version of himself.
His steps moved before any words could form.
"…I'm sorry, Sarah," he whispered. "But I have to steal something I shouldn't."
---
He slipped through the hallway with silent feet, his breathing shallow, steps careful enough to avoid even the sigh of dust under his boots.
He brushed against a pillar—something wobbled.
A vase tilted.
His hand shot out.
Caught it.
He held the vase to his chest with relief, mouthing a silent thank-you to the gods of clumsiness.
When he finally reached the laboratory door, he didn't force it. He simply pressed his fingers lightly—already unlocked.
He lit a small hurricane lamp.
The first thing he noticed wasn't the shelves.
It was the envelope lying on the desk.
His name on it.
He opened it.
Sarah's handwriting curled warmly across the page.
"Rion.
I'm leaving. Don't worry, it's temporary.
You were training, so I didn't want to disturb you.
This laboratory… it's yours now. It was my brother's wish too.
Take care of it.
I don't know when I'll return. Day, month, year.
Don't destroy anything while I'm gone.
—Sarah"
The paper trembled slightly between his fingers.
Not because of the message—
but because she knew he would come.
He let out a short breath that might have been a laugh.
"So you predicted this, huh."
He pulled off his mask and set it aside gently.
The lights flickered on.
Suddenly the whole act of sneaking felt ridiculous.
"It's my room now," he muttered. "Why was I acting like a thief…"
Shelves were stacked with labeled vials—monster blood, rare samples, strange ingredients Rylan collected over the years.
One jar caught his eye—faded, scarred label.
Cereberus (Contaminated)
Another—bright red like crystallized fire.
Ancient Dragon – Heartblood
He opened both lids, the smell sharp and metallic.
The mixture began in silence.
A pinch of powdered obsidian.
Two drops of lotus venom.
A swirl of emberroot.
A fragment of star-ash that dissolved the moment it touched liquid.
The jar glowed faintly.
Purple veins rippled through it, writhing like something alive.
Rion lifted the jar slightly, watching the liquid pulse.
"That's it."
Warm.
Too warm.
He drank.
At first, nothing.
Then—
Pain ripped through his chest like claws dragging across bone.
His pulse hammered like a drum in a storm.
His breath turned ragged, jaw clenched tight enough to crack a tooth.
The energy surged like wildfire, racing through every vein.
He gripped the table—knuckles whitening—until the wave finally settled, sinking deep into his core, no longer violent but impossibly heavy.
He stood still for long seconds.
Then a slow smile pulled at his lips.
"…Yes," he whispered. "This… this is the amount I wanted."
The path forward was no longer dark.
It was beginning to glow.